


lessons in asking

by aubadechild



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Kurapika, Other, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-11 21:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16860940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aubadechild/pseuds/aubadechild
Summary: Leorio shows up to his own apartment with a newly-adopted dog in tow. Kurapika, whodoes not live there,reads Leorio the riot act about the terms of Leorio's own lease. "It's either me or the dog."





	lessons in asking

**Author's Note:**

> posting some askbox fics here in case tumblr goes under. prompt: "leopika + 'wait a minute... are you jealous?". from [this list](http://bellamyblakesz.tumblr.com/post/111909165950/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you), sent in by @pyrrhum on tumblr. rated teen for brief language(?).

The retriever ostensibly weighs more than Kurapika does. Her tennis ball eyes come with starlight pre-installed; her tongue has been lovingly constructed for maximum kisses. Whatever trauma she has sustained throughout her three short years of life on the streets is instantly wiped away by even the smallest hint at love.

“If only it was _always_ that easy!” Leorio chuckles to himself, glancing over his shoulder. But he stops cold when he sees his future flash red in Kurapika’s eyes.

“Leorio,” they say. The softness of their voice forms a thin, milky film atop a pool of poorly-concealed anger. “You can’t bring _that_ in here. The renters’ agreement _clearly_ states—“

But they stop themself short before Leorio can do it for them because _no, they don’t live here._ Of course they don’t. And they _don’t_ want to see Leorio’s face turn all _smug_ just because they may have _accidentally_ implied otherwise. This is Leorio’s self-proclaimed “bachelor pad”, after all: sovereign domain of the pizza crust, where instant ramen is revered as god, dust is king, and unsavory scents abound. So of _course_ Kurapika doesn’t _live_ here, and such claims are preposterous and they _know_ better than to assert themself as a resident when they don’t pay rent, a fact which Leorio has no qualms about weaponizing when he wants them to “just relax, already” and “the dishes can wait till tomorrow, come watch the movie!” 

 _No, Leorio, the dishes are home to a heretofore never documented ecosystem of slime; one more day and the toxic spores might significantly alter your brain chemistry, if they haven’t already._ So Kurapika does the dishes sometimes, sure, and what about it? Friends don’t let friends live in squalor. 

“And _friends_ should sleep on the _couch,”_ Leorio has told them before, and this sentiment is always, frustratingly, followed by a wink. It’s just that the bed is far more comfortable, and if Kurapika’s constantly going to be picking up after this sorry excuse for a grown male, they might as well stay the night sometimes or a lot of the times, but really, what’s two ~~or seven~~ nights a week in the scheme of things?

When Leorio’s grin reaches cosmic dimensions Kurapika folds their arms and looks away. The dog isn’t sure if she should wag her tail or whine so she half-commits to both, tail thumping on the hardwood as she emits a strained sound not unlike Leorio’s alarm clock.

“Ooooh,” Leorio says; Kurapika can practically see the letter drawn out in the air like the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland. “So you know the rules of _my_ lease when it’s convenient for _you,_ but when we get to the part about ‘guests’ and how they ‘shouldn’t stay over for more than two weeks at a time’, _suddenly_ it’s ‘I don’t know, I can’t read’. Veeeeery interesting, Kurapika.”

“Buhf,” says the dog.

“Oh, no, of _course_ they don’t _hate_ you, my honey-bunches-of-oats,” Leorio whispers. He _scritch-scritch-scritches_ behind her ears. Her tail _thump-thump-thumps_ in time. “They’re just in a bad mood. Shh, I know, my pumpkin strudel. It’s okay. I love you.”

Kurapika rolls their eyes. “I’m not going to report you,” they tell him. “But don’t get too attached to that dog, Leorio. It’ll only end in heartbreak when you have to give her up.”

“You’re right, as usual.” Keeping one hand firm atop the dog’s head, Leorio stands and uses the other to adjust his glasses. The lenses glint as he does, reflecting the light of the muted television still going in the living room where Kurapika had been home (well...) alone watching it just moments before. 

“Of course I am. I’m glad you’re seeing reason. For once.”

Leorio nods emphatically. “It pains me to say it, but it looks like I’ll have to choose...”

“Choose?” Kurapika repeats, their eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“That’s right. Not room enough for the both of you. And, well, you’re both here against the rules, but only one of you is truly a freeloader.” Leorio points a finger at Kurapika for dramatic effect. “Kurapika! You’re hereby evicted! Grab your toothbrush and let’s go!”

“Me?!” Kurapika gasps. The word curls upward at the end, culminating in little more than a squeak. “You can’t _evict_ me! I don’t even _live_ here!”

“Well, I _am_  doing it, though.” Leorio marches over to give their shoulder a sympathy pat. “Don’t take it personally. Although, between you and me? The dog is softer, so maybe it’s a little bit personal.”

“Fine. See if I care when you’re sick during finals and there’s no one around to make you soup.”

Leorio sighs and cards a hand through his hair. “If only there was another way, but it seems we’re through...! It is a shame! A shame you can’t sign a lease or something, reduce the number of illegal guests in this household! But alas, there is no solution to this problem!”

“But I _could_ sign—“ Kurapika begins, and then again interrupts themself with a violent hand over their own mouth that does little to hide the growing color in their cheeks. 

Leorio leans forward, cups his ear, blinks all demure and exaggerated like old cartoons. “What’s this?” he says, more to himself and the dog than to Kurapika directly. “Did I hear what I think I heard?”

“Buhf!” the dog confirms.

Despite every stubborn cell in their body urging them to prove him wrong, Kurapika exhales, shakes their head. “I-I mean, if it makes things easier, then perhaps... but the logistics—it's not as though you have an extra room—“

“Like that’s ever mattered," Leorio snorts. 

“And where will the dog—“

“On the bed with us. What? Don’t give me that look, I’m not a monster.”

Kurapika looks from Leorio to the dog, then back to Leorio again. To their mixed dismay and amusement, both dog and man wear the same dopey expression.

“I... suppose I’ll have to apply first thing in the morning, then,” they breathe.

“Great! I’ll call up the landlord first thing,” Leorio exclaims, and he does something with his feet that on a more graceful man might have resembled a jig.

Kurapika pinches the bridge of their nose and smiles through their frustration. “If you wanted me to move in so badly,” they murmured, “you could have just asked.”

 

* * *

 

Tangled in the covers, Kurapika can’t sleep. They’ve spent the better part of an hour squeezing a pillow against their ears but on the other side of the bed Leorio keeps letting out soft little laughs as the dog, which Leorio has named Honey, attempts to remake his skin out of slobber. 

“Stop!” he keeps shouting hoarsely, between hoarser guffaws. “Honey! Please!”

“Can you two be QUIET,” Kurapika finally blurts out, and their rambunctious roommates pause their antics to stare at him blankly.

“Hey!” Leorio says, shoving Honey aside and army-crawling across the covers to jab at Kurapika’s side. “You’ve been crabby all night. What’s the matter with you, huh?”

Kurapika flips to face the wall, but it’s short-lived; Leorio flips them back and looms over them, his glasses-less eyes working overtime to squint at their exasperation. 

“It’s been impossible to sleep since you brought her home!” Kurapika mutters. “I just want a good night’s rest without you two causing a ruckus two feet away from me.”

“Wait a minute,” Leorio says. His expression grows at once more somber and yet more bright; a lightbulb flickers on above his head. “Are you jealous?”

Instantly Kurapika reddens, but they can no longer turn away with Leorio’s hands on either side of them. 

“Of what?” they ask weakly. “If you think for one second I want that dog’s gross tongue all over me—“

“No, I think you’re jealous of the dog!” Leorio tells them, and he’s dead serious, that motherfucker!

“That’s—you—“ Kurapika stammers. “What—no—I—“

But Leorio just snickers, and his eyes, though cursed with astigmatism, are full of love. “If you wanted to kiss me,” he says, “you could have just asked.”


End file.
